


知りたい

by imahira



Category: Rookies - Morita Masanori & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Canon - Manga, Canon-Typical Violence (mentioned), Changing Tenses, Dialogue Heavy, Drama, Emotional Constipation, Humor, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Not Entirely Healthy Relationships, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-08 08:29:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13454382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imahira/pseuds/imahira
Summary: He knows there's a lot inside of him, so much it sloshes around and spills out—and Imaoka's too little to fit as much but he keeps it guarded where no one can see it. And if he just once gives it all to Imaoka, everything inside of him, it has to come back to him, has to force out what's inside Imaoka—if he's only half full then fill him until he spills over, until thesomethingthat Hiratsuka wants comes out and he knows finally what it is.





	知りたい

**Author's Note:**

> (turned more into a humor fic as i was writing, and probably reuses a few themes from stuff i've already written)

There's two parts to having feelings. The part where you figure out what you want, and the part where you make everyone look at you. And then you get what you want. Sometimes. And the part in between, the one he can't ever get past Imaoka, is the part where you make everyone think you want it for some different reason. Something that sounds better. That's the hard part.

But there's too many feelings this time and  they're too hot and confusing, he doesn't know what he wants or who needs to be looking at him. It's not fair how much Imaoka keeps hidden, it's not fair how his feelings don't spill out all the time, it's not fair how he understands everything he wants and everything everyone else wants.

Just because his feelings are smaller and slower and they fit inside him. He's got to have enough space inside him to fit somebody else's feelings too.

So if once, just once, Hiratsuka thinks—if he takes everything inside him and shoves it at Imaoka, then what comes back out has to be something he can understand. He pours some water into a half finished beer just to check, and it spills over just like he thought. And he knows what's spilling onto the table, because the beer can comes with a label. The water comes in a blank glass and it could be anything, but once it's in the beer you can taste it—shitty watered-down beer. Not gin, or vinegar, or anything it could've been. So he's going to feel _everything_ at Imaoka, all at once. And that's gonna fix him and he won't be confused and mad and nervous anymore.

The wind outside roars so loud some nights it's like the rest of the world is gone, and the morning isn't coming, and Imaoka's the only one that ever gives him anything back, and he wants everything that's in there, wants to tease and pull all Imaoka's got out of him until he knows what the hell is there.

* * *

It took another beer to get there, on another night of Imaoka very obviously trying not to get too drunk, lying on the couch even quieter than usual.

"We're in a friendship crisis," Hiratsuka announced, crushing the empty beer can that meant he was buzzed enough to talk about feelings.

"A what?"

"A crisis of friendship."

There was a pause from the couch. "Um. Okay."

"Caused by you."

"Oh." A little softer. "I didn't really mean to, I just thought maybe you wouldn't—um, when did you...?"

"My emotional needs are going unmet." He'd read about those on a magazine cover. He hadn't opened the magazine, but with luck Imaoka wouldn't ask what exactly an emotional need was. "How am I not supposed to notice that?"

"I... oh." Imaoka sighed, sharper than he had any right to. "All right. I don't know what you're talking about, then."

"You're ignoring me!"

"We talk every day."

"But you're thinking about something else! You think I can't tell?"

"Maybe it's none of your business."

Hiratsuka reeled. Clearly he'd let this go unchecked too long. "What or where or who," he demanded, "is taking up space in your brain while you're in my presence?" An ugly thought started to sink in. " _Is_ it a who?"

"Can't you just leave this alone?" Imaoka looked weird. Uncomfortable. Hunted. Like a man with a guilty secret.

"Who is he? What's he telling you about me?"

"Nobody! I'm not—who would I be thinking about? I'm with you all the time."

Hiratsuka weighed the evidence. He couldn't actually picture anybody who'd be more fun to think about than him, which was a point in Imaoka's favor. Unless it was a she. But that was impossible, because no girl would be talking to Imaoka unless it was to ask him about his incredibly handsome friend. "Fine, then tell me the other thing!"

"Tell you what?"

"What I _want_!" Like he didn't fucking know. "You always know. So tell me!"

"I... don't know? Is this a riddle? Are you getting into riddles?" He sighed again. "I don't know why we're fighting. I just feel quieter lately."

"You're mad about something that only you know what it is, and I'm mad about something, and I bet you know what that is too. And like I said, you're ignoring me, and you're not supposed to, and I don't like it."

"I'm not trying to ignore you. I've just... been thinking a lot. About something. And I don't know _why_  you're mad, if you didn't find—if you don't know what it is."

"Keep going," Hiratsuka urged. They were narrowing it down slowly.

Imaoka hesitated. "It's kind of something big."

"We're talking big tonight."

"I just don't think you're gonna like it."

"No judgment." Hiratsuka spread his arms and knocked the remainder of his second beer onto the carpet. "Just honesty. We're in the honesty zone. Two pals spilling truths."

"Um. You left your shirt here. Last month. And I jerked off in it. I thought I'd better wash it and give it back, but then, um, I thought, you know... you're gonna have a wife to do that someday. Washing your clothes. So I thought, maybe you'd better just hurry up and find her, and I was kinda mad, and I wasn't sure what to do with the shirt. I used to do that kind of a lot. In high school."

"Wash my clothes?" Hiratsuka couldn't make head or tail of what he was babbling about.

"Take your stuff and jerk off. I thought it was okay 'cause we'd just graduate and not see each other as much, and then I'd get better, but then, um, we're still hanging out. And, um, I like it, but now I don't really know what to do." His voice got softer again. "I told myself I'd just stop, but, um... then I didn't."

"Wait a second," Hiratsuka broke in. "Start over. You did what with my shirt?"

Imaoka sighed. "I put it on."

"And?"

"And I jerked off. And I still haven't washed it so I think it's kinda ruined at this point."

"But _why_?" That was the most important part, and Imaoka seemed to think it went without saying.

Imaoka gave him that fucking look again, like he'd asked something no normal person would ever need to know. Like this wasn't _his_ shirt they were talking about. "It smelled like you. So it was like you were... holding me."

"Holding you? Like helping you with a girl?"

"No! No girls. Just us." Imaoka looked to the ceiling. "Hiracchi, you're so stupid. You're not even trying to listen."

"Who's stupider," Hiratsuka demanded. "The guy who doesn't get it or the guy who says he gets it but can't explain it?"

"You don't want to get it. I was worried all this time and you don't even care enough to get upset."

"I _want to understand_! I told you, that's the whole point! If you know so goddamn much about me, tell me what I want! Tell me how to be happy! And then say what you want, and we'll both know everything. You don't talk, that's your fucking problem! What's the point of you having thoughts if I don't even know what they are?"

"All I know is what you don't want. You want everything from everybody else, you want—everything I want to give you but you don't want it from me."

His chest felt hot. His face felt hot. His feelings felt—settled. Slower.

"So all of that"—he motioned at Imaoka's chest—"that's all me?"

"What?"

"In there! Inside you! Where you're thinking!"

"Of course it's you." Imaoka's arms fell crossed over his eyes. "Who else would it ever be?"

"So what? What are you thinking about me? I need details."

"Leave me alone. Please."

"You _haven't told me_  what we want! That's what this whole thing's about!"

"You act like it's gonna be the same thing, but it's not. You don't think like me."

"Says who?"

"It's pretty obvious." Imaoka was dangerously close to scoffing at him, and if he thought that was allowed, this whole keeping-secrets thing really had gone on too damn long. "You don't want to know, and you're not gonna listen."

"Maybe you're forgetting you only get away with talking all this shit because I let you," Hiratsuka growled, letting the last few words hang like a threat. "If you want your ass kicked instead..."

"I told you I don't want to fight." He was starting to sound tired. "I like you more than I like anybody else, you're just so..."

"Then tell me what you're thinking about!"

"Fine! I—I wanna be with you, and take care of you, and go places with you instead of worrying while you're away—I want to make you food you like and make sure you're warm at night and you get enough sleep—I want you to be happy but I want you to be happy because—because of me, like I... like I'm enough and you don't need anything else...!"

"I don't want any other friends. And you can cook for me if you want, I don't get why you're all upset."

"You don't understand anything I'm saying! Guys like me don't... get to make guys like you happy."

"Listen," Hiratsuka said, very seriously. "I'm not even drunk enough to be saying this, but you're getting a real deal tonight—you make me happy. Hanging out with you. You're my best friend."

"Oh, god." Imaoka's hands were over his face.

"Share your thoughts with me. Honesty zone."

"My thoughts? My thoughts are that this is a nightmare, and we're not even drunk enough to forget it happened."

"You're taking being my friend awfully hard."

"I knew we were best friends, you idiot! I _like you_. I want to kiss you. I jerked off in your shirt. You're supposed to care about that, but you don't care which way I feel as long as I'm obsessed w—"

His mouth was soft and kind of sticky from the beer. There were some stray tears running down into his hair and ears and he squeaked and started breathing again when Hiratsuka wiped them up with his sleeve.

"Think about me for once! This is five minutes for you, but if you do it I'm never, ever gonna get better!"

His nose was running into the wispy start of his new mustache, and that, Hiratsuka felt, was a job for someone else's sleeve. "Five _minutes_? Wipe your goddamn nose. You think I last five minutes?"

"I just m-meant—" He wiped a sleeve over his goddamn nose. "You can't just feel me up for a couple minutes 'cause you're bored and you think you're lonely, you know I'd let you do it but I meant all of that stuff I said, and you can't give me that and then take it away. Please."

"How long have you known me, and you think I've got _five minutes_  in me?"

"Hiracchi!"

Hiratsuka was up on the sofa with both knees now, leaning down with one hand on the back of the sofa, and he took the chance to grip Imaoka's shoulder with the other hand in a firm and commanding way. "Wipe your nose all the way, I don't wanna look at that. Also, listen! If you need me to help you jack off, I can do that. I get that you have confidence issues and you need me to help with basic things."

Imaoka rubbed an arm over his upper lip again, but didn't say anything. He had that suspicious look he sometimes got when he was jumping to unfair conclusions.

"You're responsible for a mustache now," Hiratsuka reminded him. "It's a heavy burden."

When Imaoka spoke, it was slowly. "You're not taking this like most people would. In... either direction."

"Listen."

"I'm listening."

"If you lost your arms and your face, and you couldn't jack off and no one would kiss you, I would stand by your side and help you. And you'd do the same for me. Or else. And this is basically the same as that, because what you're saying is you have some kind of disorder where you need my help or it doesn't work. You get it?"

"I don't really _get_ anything you say."

"I mean, I jerk it like five times a day—"

"You can't count scratching yourself as—"

"—And you're all quiet and weird, so you probably go at it more. That's valuable time you're losing, and you could be spending it on—"

"Can you be honest? Just once?"

"You finally cough up a suggestion for something to do and now you're flipping your shit when I offer to—"

"Just tell me what I mean to you." There were still a couple tear streaks by the sides of his eyes. "If you do this and then you're sick of me in a week, I think I might die."

"You... think about me. More than anybody. So you should be doing it as much as possible." Imaoka started to speak again but Hiratsuka cut him off: "I'm saying everything I know how! And—I don't want you thinking about me less someday. Or me having some goddamn stranger around who thinks about me more."

Imaoka just looked up at him. Finally a little half-smile started to spread. "Fine."

"You get it?!"

"I get it."

Hiratsuka gave his nose a tweak. "God, you're slow."

"Well, you're always talking about getting a girlfriend, so I just figured you'd be really upset if you... why didn't you just say something at the beginning?"

"Maybe I just didn't notice until you started talking about all that stuff!"

"I don't want to hear you calling me the slow one."

The second time was less wet, and they were both breathing heavier by the time Imaoka pushed him up and started trying to get his hoodie off for real. 

"I'm never gonna get better now," Imaoka said a little thickly.

"You'd better fucking not. I'm taking myself off the market over this. That's a big deal."

"I didn't really want to."

Hiratsuka paused mid-motion, not willing to let that go. "Well, you said you did. A couple of times!" he added, remembering it now for the outrage it was.

Imaoka blinked at him. "Can I just... wait until later to explain some stuff to you?" He sighed, infuriatingly, and then made a much better noise which, Hiratsuka was pleased to discover, he could now make happen any time he felt like it.


End file.
